Shelter From The Storm
by ItsAHopeForAllTheHopeless
Summary: The past Mike Stoker tried so hard to bury comes to light. With Stoker injured and his family out of contact. The firemen of station 51 are forced to do some research of their own but are they truly prepared for the painful truths they'll uncover? Will they ever be able look at their friend without pity in their eyes?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything recognized only the plot and the ocs

* * *

 _"Come in, she said_

 _I'll give ya shelter from the storm"_

The colors seeped in whirling in blues, blacks, and purples, Inky black water lapped against the pale sand while the wind whipped through the darkening purple skies hot white spurts of lightning flashing on the horizon.

The sharp scent of salt lingered in the air joining the heady scent of rain.

The wildlife remained still filling the blackness with eerie silence. Something tragic was destined to occur tonight.

A young girl staggered through the sand falling to her knees at the water's edge. Her grief filled screams split the night.

* * *

 **June 1974**

32 year old Michael Stoker jerked awake with a start heartbeat echoing like a freight train in his ears. Mike rubbed his eyes blearily as the images played out under his eyelids.

Noiselessly pulling on his turnout pants, the engineer aimlessly wandered toward the kitchen fretting over the nightmare's resurgence.

The klaxons blared and the smooth warm baritone of Sam Lanier filtered into the station _" Battalion 14, Truck 10, Engine 35, Engine 51, Abandoned Warehouse 3892 Harbor Road Cross Street Arbor Timeout 0230."_

The nightmare was soon forgotten as pairs of boots clattered across the the floors to assume their duties.

Warehouse 3892 had been built back in the forties to store surplus fuel for ships but due to it's un ideal location it was abandoned before the paint had finished drying. The elements had not been kind to the structure over the years.

The fire had been started by a local resident after he dropped his cigarette upon being caught by his wife. The cigarette was forgotten as the irate woman chewed out her husband for indulging in his filthy habit.

On the ground the cigarette lay smoldering next to a greasy rag forgotten by a dock worker. No fuel tanks remained in the warehouse but copious amounts of fuel laid upon the floor. Warehouse 3892 was a disaster patiently waiting to strike.

To the untrained observer the scene was mass chaos hoses were strewn about like spaghetti noodles and fireman hurried back and forth.

Mike watched the scene quietly from the control panel. The ground trembled slightly as Warehouse 3892 gave a forceful creaking shudder. The explosion rocked through the area. Burning debris rained down from the sky, Probies hit the deck and the experienced stood their ground.

Mike bent down to inspect the hose couplings never seeing the chunk of metal headed straight for him. The metal slammed into Mike's back hurling him against the side of the engine. Explosions are a funny thing they sound like the end of the world he mused as darkness clouded his vision.

Awhile later the fire winded down"All right boys, shut it down" The Battalion chief's voice echoed from the megaphone.

The Fireman began the weary duty of clean up. Marco Lopez looked down at the hose in his hands perplexed at why Stoker hadn't shut off the pressure.

"Yo Mike, Ya sleeping back there " Marco called over his shoulder. When there was no response his stomach dropped further.

Exchanging a worried glance with Chet Marco handed him the hose and jogged towards the engine hoping everything was alright.

Rounding the engine the lineman found the engineer crumpled on the gravel blood trickling down his face.

"CAP" Marco cried barely aware the words had left his lips.

Dropping to the ground Marco felt for a pulse holding his breath. He sighed relieved upon finding a steady pulse, Marco began mumbling a prayer in spanish.

"What the hell happened?" Hank Stanley demanded. "Desoto! Gage! Get over here" he boomed.

The two paramedics raced over, They all gathered worriedly around their friend "Mike must have caught some debris" Roy concluded as he inspected the Stoker's head.

Johnny appeared over his partner's shoulder "Rampart says to get the bleeding stabilized and bring him in" he quietly informed.

* * *

 _'"Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood_  
 _When blackness was a virtue the road was full of mud_

 _I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form"_

Stoker found himself walking along a familiar desolate road, though it had been many years since the last time he was there. Stoker recognized it immediately for it haunted him in his nightmares.

The night was chilly and the harsh wind smelled of rain. Stoker continued forward searching for some sort of shelter from the approaching storm.

Around the bend he happened upon the crumpled wreck of a car. "Hello? Is anyone there?" he called the wind stealing his words away.

In the front seat lay a young boy the pale moonlight illuminated his light colored shirt which was now stained a dark crimson. Slowly the boy's eyes opened taking in Stoker, A slow smile spread across his gray face "Mikey" he whispered softly. Stoker's breath caught in his throat.

Mike shuddered and flitted his eye's open, "Easy Stoker" John said placing a hand on Mike's shoulder.

Mike blinked blearily at the paramedic, "You had a nasty blow to the head, We're taking you to Rampart" John explained gently.

Fear seized Mike he hated hospitals with all his being, he sat up straight ready to bolt. "Whoa there you're not going anywhere pal" John exclaimed.

Another more terrifying thought struck Mike, "Where's Tommy" he asked.

John frowned worriedly, "Uh.. who's Tommy?" he questioned becoming more concerned for his friend.

Mike looked at John incredulously as if Johnny was the one asking stupid questions.

Mike gritted his teeth, "T-o-m-m-y!" He drew out the word stressing each letter.

"Did you get him out?" Mike demanded.

"Of course we did, he's with Roy, Don't worry about it" John reassured

"Okay" Mike replied suddenly very sleepy.

Johnny watched the sleeping engineer worriedly. They needed to get to Rampart soon something was seriously wrong with Stoker.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing recognized only the plot and my ocs.**

* * *

 _"Suddenly I turned around and she was standing there_

 _With Silver Bracelets on her wrists and flowers in her hair"_

 **June 1974**

Lily paced back and forth in front of the door wringing her hands nervously. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all she sound of Westminster chimes echoed throughout the house.

Lily took a steady breath placing her hand on the doorknob opening the men stood on the doorstep dressed in suits. They both appeared to be in their mid twenties,

"Hello, Are you Mrs. Morgan?" The first man asked smiling warmly.

Lily nodded shyly. "Good, I'm Detective Bryan Hayes" The man replied showing her his badge.

"Yes We spoke on the phone" Lily recalled the Man's voice.

"And this is my partner Detective Tobias Clark" Bryan added gestured toward the second man.

Lily felt herself begin to feel at ease in the Detective's friendly presence. She could recall now why she had agreed to this meeting earlier.

Lily invited the two detective's inside, "That's a lovely painting over there" commented Tobias as he placed the tape recorder on the coffee table. Lily smiled tightly, "Thank you, I painted it myself" she said "I studied Art in college". Her heart gave a painful tug as she gazed at the painting depicting a young couple standing on a stormy beach. It had been one of her earliest works after that fateful night. Painting had become her way of coping with the grief of losing her best friend.

Lily sat down stiffly chewing her lip nervously she hadn't spoken about that night in nearly fifteen years unwilling to relieve the pain. It was just supposed to be a fun last road trip before they started the next chapter in their lives.

"Recorder's ready" Tobias told Bryan breaking the silence.

"Today is June 19th 1974, I'm here with Mrs. Lillian Morgan formerly Ms. Lillian Collins, I'll be interviewing her regarding the Stoker cold case" Spoke the young detective into the microphone.

"Could you call me Lily please?" Lily requested.

Bryan nodded "Of course whatever will make you comfortable".

He continued on, "Now, Lily can you think back to August 28th 1960, Start small Where are you? What do you see? What do you hear? Who's with you? Are you alone?".

Lily closed her eyes slipping back to her eighteen year old self, "I...I'm on a beach, I smell salt and coconut oil".

"You're doing so good Lily! "Bryan praised.

"I'm...I mean we're all alone just the four of us, I can hear the waves and Charlie's got his camera, he's taking pictures of everything-" Lily stopped a sob caught in her throat.

"We were so happy, so carefree" She whispered tears sliding down her face.

Bryan grasped her hand and Tobias looking extremely uncomfortable passed over the box of tissues from the end table.

Public relations was not his strong suit unfortunately it was a big part of his job but he had Bryan as a partner so it worked out all right so far.

* * *

"Enough with the bright lights already" Mike complained attempting to dodge away from Brackett's flashlight.

"I need to look at _both_ your eyes" Brackett insisted.

"Why? You already looked in the right one and now I think I'm blind, Sorry to break it to you doc but I need my eyes to drive the fire engine and who knows who drove her back to the station, I bet it was Chet crafty bastard always eyeing her up-" Mike ranted.

Johnny chuckled from his spot against the wall he'd never heard Stoker this talkative...and colorful.

Brackett placed his hands on his hips, narrowing his eyes into his patent bitch face, "Mr. Stoker unless you let me finish this examination you won't be behind the wheel of anything in the near future".

Mike rolled his eyes, "Fine, the sooner I'm out of here the better" he huffed.

"I wouldn't count on leaving so soon Mr. Stoker judging from you're out of character behavior, I'd like to keep you overnight for observation" Brackett commented while beaming the light into the other eye.

Mike glared in response, "Paint's probably scratched by now" he muttered under his breath.

* * *

 _"I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail"_

Bryan Hayes rubbed his eyes tiredly frowning at the paperwork scattered around the motel room. The sloppy police work of the original investigators was truly alarming.

There was far too leads that hadn't been pursued and corners that had been cut. But to top it all off two polaroids of the wrecked car after it had been removed from the site was all that existed of the crime scene.

The lead investigator's notes leaned heavily on the theory that either narcotics or alcohol had intoxicated the young adults and things had gotten out of hand. The theory was solidified when the coroner found trace amounts of an unknown substance in the victim's blood.

The case had been dismissed shortly afterward and left to be stored among the boxes of unresolved cases. Still something nagged Bryan about the case there was something missing, something right in front of him that he just couldn't put his finger on.

Bryan and Tobias been combing through every lead and re interviewing all witnesses during the past month confirming their previous statements…. well minus the elusive Michael Stoker whom they still had yet to get in touch with.

Time was running out if they didn't have this case solved in the next ten days, they'd never be able to prove to their bosses that a cold case could still be solved years later. Nobody deserved to be forgotten and Bryan would be damned if he'd let it keep happening.

Bryan groaned in frustration and walked over to the window to stretch his sore sun was just starting to peek out around the clouds painting the sky with oranges and pinks, Bryan sighed tiredly they'd pulled an unintentional all nighter...again.

Outside the motel room a tourist couple hurried noisily between their car and motel room, hoping to get a head start on their plans for the day.

"Honey don't forget the camera" The wife called over her shoulder to her husband locking the door.

Bryan's eyes widened the gears began turning. 'Camera! Why hadn't it occurred to him before!'.

He practically sprinted across the room and began vigorously shaking his snoring partner awake.

"Tobias! Where's the tape from the interview with Lily Morgan yesterday" Bryan demanded the minute Tobias's eyes fluttered open.

"It's in my briefcase" Tobias yawned sleepily.

Bryan flung open the briefcase and put the cassette tape into the recorder punching the play button then fast forwarding past the introductions.

"I can hear the waves and Charlie's got his camera, he's taking pictures of everything" came Lily's voice from the tiny speakers.

Bryan fidgeted restlessly looking at Tobias expectantly, Tobias raised his eyebrow at his partner it was too early in the morning to be playing mind games.

Bryan rewound the tape playing the same section. "You going to elaborate?" Tobias asked wearily.

"So there's no photos of the crime scene right" Bryan explained.

"Lily spoke about their friend Charlie Terrance, about how he always had a camera and was taking pictures of everything so-".

"So there's a chance Charlie Terrance might have taken photographs that night" Tobias finished a grin spreading across his face.

Bryan nodded his green eyes twinkling this was the biggest break they'd had in the case yet. tobias clamored out of the chair he'd spent the night in stretching sleepily.

Then he paused mid stretch as a frown filtered across his face "Bryan" he said slowly "We've never re interviewed Charlie Terrance before...because he's dead".

Bryan froze his face falling he could now recall reading that Charles Terrance had committed suicide in 1961 on the one year anniversary of the victim's death.

The two young detectives looked down at the scattered paperwork 'how did we forget that' they both thought ruefully.

But still nevertheless they would still pursue the lead hoping that someone had saved Charlie Terrance's belongings.


End file.
